“Well, you great simpleton,” she said, “so much the better, if the prefect does forget us!  We shall save the town by ourselves.  For my part, I should like to see the insurgents return, so that we might receive them with bullets and cover ourselves with glory.  Listen to me, go and have the gates closed, and don’t go to bed; bustle about all night; it will all be taken into account later on.”

Pierre returned to the town-hall in rather more cheerful spirits.  He required some courage to remain firm amidst the woeful maunderings of his colleagues.  The members of the Provisional Commission seemed to reek with panic, just as they might with damp in the rainy season.  They all professed to have counted upon the despatch of a regiment, and began to exclaim that brave citizens ought not to be abandoned in such a manner to the fury of the rabble.  Pierre, to preserve peace, almost promised they should have a regiment on the morrow.  Then he announced, in a solemn manner, that he was going to have the gates closed.  This came as a relief.  Detachments of the national guards had to repair immediately to each gate and double-lock it.  When they had returned, several members confessed that they really felt more comfortable; and when Pierre remarked that the critical situation of the town imposed upon them the duty of remaining at their posts, some of them made arrangements with the view of spending the night in an arm-chair.  Granoux put on a black silk skull cap which he had brought with him by way of precaution.  Towards eleven o’clock, half of the gentlemen were sleeping round Monsieur Garconnet’s writing table.  Those who still managed to keep their eyes open fancied, as they listened to the measured tramp of the national guards in the courtyard, that they were heroes and were receiving decorations.  A large lamp, placed on the writing-table, illumined this strange vigil.  All at once, however, Rougon, who had seemed to be slumbering, jumped up, and sent for Vuillet.  He had just remembered that he had not received the “Gazette.”

The bookseller made his appearance in a very bad humour.

“Well!” Rougon asked him as he took him aside, “what about the article you promised me?  I haven’t seen the paper.”

“Is that what you disturbed me for?” Vuillet angrily retorted.  “The ‘Gazette’ has not been issued; I’ve no desire to get myself murdered to-morrow, should the insurgents come back.”

Rougon tried to smile as he declared that, thank heaven, nobody would be murdered at all.  It was precisely because false and disquieting rumours were running about that the article in question would have rendered great service to the good cause.

“Possibly,” Vuillet resumed; “but the best of causes at the present time is to keep one’s head on one’s shoulders.”  And he added, with maliciousness, “And I was under the impression you had killed all the insurgents!  You’ve left too many of them for me to run any risk.”